My Road to Redemption #2

[Stephen]

The dimly lit gymnasium of the Campbell Street Center is silent as Jacques Mercier enters through the main doors. It's two days before the next FGA taping, which will be held in this very same gymnasium. Two days before Jacques is set to face "The Slammer" Mickey O'Reilly in a match he considers to be his proving ground to himself, the fans, the rest of the roster, and most importantly, FGA management. He'd been silent about his personal problems with management until recently when he shot a promo in his apartment. It was a promo that he wasn't too proud of, not because of the fact that he was smoking a blunt, nor was it because he felt as if he were putting his job in jeopardy. It was because he was reverting back to his old ways of blaming people for putting him in positions that he himself in. It wasn't management's fault that he'd lost to Chandler Scott and Michael Tompkins back to back. If he were in their position, he'd probably have thrown himself two no-name wrestlers to prove that he deserved a spot in this company too. Hindsight's 20x20.

He walks to the center of the gym, taking in his surroundings and getting a feel of the atmosphere. His uncle and mentor, Antoine Hurst, always told him to be aware of your surroundings in a match. Jacques, who always liked to put his own spin on the advice given to him, figured that there was no better way to become aware of your surroundings then seeing them before they are altered. He imagines standing in the center of the ring and walks in a circle, imagining what the rest of the gym would look like come Wednesday to the best of his ability. The ramp has been attached to the stage with the black curtain masking the backstage area. The black mats outside of the ring and the black barricade that encircled them had been set up as well. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, believing that he truly is in his element now. He imagines the fans chanting his name as he holds the FGA championship high above his head, flaunting it for everyone in the crowd to see. A smile flashes across his face as he opens his eyes.

Lately he’d been feeling more confident in himself. He was starting to feel that he was proving to everyone that he wasn’t all flash and no substance. He was slowly growing and getting better with each passing week. Whether he was victorious or came up short, each match had taught him something different. His match with Michael Tompkins, a match that was included in the recently released Best of Wednesday Night Combat DVD, taught him that he had to limit his mistakes in crucial situations. His match with Asro Kast taught him how to better overcome adversity. He was officially honing his craft, and he was enjoying every minute of it. His uncle even mentioned that he, as Antoine put it, “Finally figured out which hole to put it in.” It was one of the nicest things Jacques could remember Antoine ever saying to him.

When their conversation switched to the topic of Jacques’ upcoming match, Jacques was expecting his uncle to drill him over the phone. Instead, his uncle merely told him that he’d taught him all that he could at this point and it was up to Jacques to determine whether or not he would be victorious or not. At first Jacques wanted to tell him that he had a lot more to learn from him, but he knew that his uncle was right. It was time for him to finally prove to himself that he could do this on his own. He knew his uncle wanted to advise him, but he appreciated the fact that he didn’t. Deep down he’d been wanting to know if he could do this on his own as well and what better way to find out then to take down the seemingly next big thing in the company? It was funny because just a few weeks ago, he was jealous of O’Reilly and the fact that he was making a much bigger splash than he was. Now he couldn’t think of a better opponent to use as a proving ground and the jealousy had turned into pure determination.

He thought back to the recent promo that O’Reilly had cut and grinned. Mickey called him out for not knowing that the man had apparently turned a new leaf. Honestly Jacques truly didn’t know, nor did he care. He didn’t mind admitting that he never really paid attention to Mickey’s recent escapades because they ultimately didn’t matter to him. What the man did outside of the ring and outside of the company was not Jacques’ concern. What did matter was what the man did in the ring and you can damn well be sure that he’d been paying a great deal of attention to that in the last few weeks. The man was talented and a true competitor, but so was Jacques. The only real difference between the two was that O’Reilly had capitalized upon his opportunities while Jacques had squandered his. That wasn’t going to happen again anytime soon so the advantage really went to neither competitor, which gave Jacques even more confidence.

Jacques walks over to the bleachers and sits down. He acknowledges the camera for the first time by looking straight into it. He puts right his elbow on his leg and rests his head on his hand. He stares at the ground as if he’s thinking hard about something.

Jacques Mercier: You know, I’ve just now realized that none of you really know why I go by “Black Magic” and I feel like everyone, especially you Mickey, deserves to know why. Let me start by saying that it has nothing to do with my beliefs nor is it because I’ve been known to dabble in the art of magic. No, I don’t honestly believe in tarot cards or causing ill will to others through supernatural means. I’m not delusional people, just trying to make an impression and ultimately it worked.

Jacques pauses for a moment as he gathers his thought.

Jacques Mercier: The truth is I got the name “Black Magic” when I was a kid. As most of you have heard, I have a reputation of quitting when things don’t go my way and just going MIA. Well I did this so much growing up that my friends started calling me “Black Magic”. Black because, well look at me. Magic because I would up and quit things so quickly it was almost like if you blinked, you wouldn’t even have known I’d tried doing something. In short, the term was not necessarily a term of endearment.

He pauses again, still looking at the ground.

Jacques Mercier: Some of you are probably wondering why I would use something with such a negative stigma to it as a nickname. Truth is, it reminds me of who I once was and who I don’t want to be again. Like you Mickey, I had to overcome my own demons and because I can relate to you on that level, I respect you. But there is another reason why I use the name. Black Magic is misunderstood by most. Everyone just hears that it’s bad and they just hop on the bandwagon without ever trying to find out what it is and if it really is bad. No one tries to understand it and the history behind it.

Jacques looks into the camera.

Jacques Mercier: I’m tired of being misunderstood. I want everyone to understand this, and understand it well: I need to become the FGA Heavyweight Champion, plain and simple. I need it like I need oxygen. I let it slip through my grasps before because I thought I wanted to become champion. It wasn’t until I did let it slip through my grasps that I slowly began to realize that I didn’t want to become champion, I needed it.

Jacques looks at the ground again.

Jacques Mercier: The very next week, I had an opportunity to place myself in prime position to have another shot at the gold when I faced Tompkins. Again, I let that opportunity slip through my fingers and I honestly died a little inside.

Jacques looks back into the camera.

Jacques Mercier: And when I say that I died a little inside, I mean that the old me was officially dying. The me I no longer wanted to be was slowly fading into nothing but a bad memory. Now I stand before you a new man, so much so that I’m officially denouncing the nickname “Black Magic”.

He lets this sink in for a few seconds.

Jacques Mercier: So in a sense Mickey, you got what you wanted. The old me has hit the road and I assure you that that motherfucker isn’t coming back. The new me is now dedicated to rectifying the mistakes the old me has made and to redeem myself by no longer letting opportunities escape my clutches. My first opportunity is you Mickey. The fact that you are scheduled to face me has put you in my clutches and the only way for you to escape is by beating me. I need you to come to the understanding that you will not be escaping my clutches. When I defeat you, it will start my true ascension to the top and when I am looking down at the rest of the roster, I will personally thank you for ultimately being my bitch for however long our match lasts.

Jacques stands up and begins to walk towards the exit of the gym. He speaks once more with his back to the camera.

Jacques Mercier: I told you once before Mickey, you are the first step on my Road to Redemption my friend and this road will not be an easy one for me, but it especially won’t be an easy road for any obstacle that threatens my progress. I’m giving the entire roster forewarning, when I enter that ring then you have officially entered my jungle.

Jacques looks back at the camera.

Jacques Mercier: And there ain’t no church in the wild people, so know that not even your God is with you when you face me. ‘Til Wednesday, peace.

With that, Jacques proceeds to the exit as the scene fades to black.